Alwyn Tyrell: The Tale of a Vampire
by 3agle
Summary: Alwyn Tyrell is a vampire who lives life on the edge. When he is attacked by Vigilants of Stendarr, he is set on a dangerous path that will take him from the streets of Skingrad to Oblivion itself, and force him to do battle with dark demons of his own...


_Prologue: The House-Watcher_

It was dark when Alwyn Tyrell left his hiding place. It was always dark when Alwyn emerged. He usually didn't leave it this late, though. That man had stood there for hours. Stood there with his torch and his fancy robes, hood pulled over his face, occasionally muttering under his breath. He had been watching something. Perhaps the house across the street? Maybe he was waiting for a date who never showed? Alwyn chuckled at that. A man as strange as he had been would have trouble even talking to a woman, never mind a romantic dinner! _And in any case_, he thought, _If he had been looking for Alwyn he had missed his chance_.

It was strange, he knew, but Alwyn often thought of himself in the third person. He didn't have a khajiiti dialect issue, he just didn't feel like Alwyn Tyrell anymore. He didn't feel as if he belonged in his own body. Maybe near thirty years of vampirism would do that to a man. Alwyn didn't know. He wasn't an expert on the subject. And judging by the state of some of the elder of his kind, he didn't want to be. He knew many kinsmen who had died horribly in pursuit of knowledge, so Alwyn preferred to take each night as it came. And up 'til now, he hadn't had any problems with it.

Alwyn vaulted the rusty gate, landing silently in the darkened alley. It was good to be out of the House. The ramshackle, derelict building had a tainted air to it, as if some horrific evil had seeped into its very structure. Which, in a way, it had. The House stood out of the way, built in a small patch of land that would once have been a pretty garden. Now it was dirt and scraggly weeds, with a gnarled bare tree standing vigil outside. It probably had a name, but Alwyn just called it The House. Apparently, it was one of Skingrad's oldest buildings, dating back to before the Oblivion Crisis, and it had once been the home of a strange old alchemist. There were still blast marks on the walls from some of his more volatile experiments. Alwyn didn't care. He'd found The House when he came to Skingrad. He thought it was about three months ago, but he didn't know for sure. He'd lost track of time recently.

He crept along in the shadow of the buildings, his footfalls making no noise at all. Alwyn's affliction limited his opportunities for travel. While sunlight was not going to kill him outright, it did result in loss of energy, pain, nausea, blurred vision and infuriating itches. The only real chance he had to explore the city was at night. Alwyn preferred the night. He felt safer in the darkness, confident in knowing he could melt away into it at a moment's notice. Being a vampire had its benefits.

Up ahead, Alwyn saw a light. At first he thought it was the watchman with his lantern, but he then realized it was a burning torch. Alwyn clambered up the side of a house, lying flat on the roof. Up here, he was exposed. No shadow to hide in. The pale light of the moon shone on him like a beacon.

'_Go away!_' he hissed, at nothing in particular. Was he talking to the soldiers? The moonlight? Or perhaps the shadow inside him, the dark, creeping spirit that had plagued him for nigh on seventy years? He froze. He heard a familiar voice. Slowly, he edged forwards to look down on the street. It was the robed man, talking to three others garbed in a similar fashion. The man from earlier pointed down the street, in the direction Alwyn had come from. In the direction of The House.

It didn't take a genius to put two and two together, and Alwyn didn't hesitate for a moment. These people…who were they? One of them had been watching The House. The other three? _Screw this, Alwyn!_ he thought to himself. _Deal with it! _Whoever they were, they had their suspicions about The House. And that meant it was no longer safe. Unless those who knew were removed. And to Alwyn's darker side, that idea was very appealing.

He crept silently along the rooftop, until he was nearly above his quarry. Alwyn wasn't a great lover of violence, and preferred to avoid conflict when necessary, but these people were a threat. He couldn't quite catch their words, but he didn't think he'd like them. He drew his dagger, watching the moonlight play on the blade's slight curve. It had been a long time since he'd used it, save for chopping stolen vegetables that morning. Now, it would have a chance to feed. Four of them, one of him. The odds were in his favour.

Alwyn jumped, crashing onto a terrified hunter. Before his comrades could react, Alwyn had slashed his throat, feeling the exultation race through his veins. He hadn't felt this good in ages. The dark spirit within yearned for more, to spill the blood of those who dared threaten his home. A hollow, blackened rage clouded his mind, and for once, Alwyn Tyrell didn't fight it.

'_Vampiris!_' cried another, as he fumbled for his sword. In seconds, he lay disembowelled at Alwyn's feet. That left two; House-Watcher and a female wielding a staff. Both were battle-ready, using their fellow warrior's slaughter as a chance to prepare themselves. _Ruthless,_ thought Alwyn, with a hint of admiration. Here were people who would do whatever it took to fulfil their goal, and damn the consequences. And right now, their goal was to kill Alwyn.

House-Watcher, evidently the leader, lunged forwards, aiming his blade at Alwyn's shoulder. The vampire rolled, coming up to face a blast of magick from the woman's stave. Sprawling, he realized he had lost hold of his dagger. He didn't care. As House-Watcher charged , ready to strike the finishing blow, Alwyn launched himself forwards, and House-Watcher tumbled to the ground. Alwyn picked up the sword and focused on the mage. To her credit, she managed to parry his first few thrusts, but her lack of hand-to-hand experience soon showed as her cowled head was severed in a fountain of gore. Alwyn didn't waste a moment, turning on his heel to face the recovered House-Watcher, who, lacking his weapon, had wreathed his hand in flames.

The image of the fire burnt onto his retinas, and he could feel his pale skin prickle in the heat. Fire! House-Watcher knew how to fight vampires. Alwyn couldn't get close, for fear of being scorched by his opponent's blazing fists. He drew back his arm and hurled the sword, and with a sickening _crunch!_ it embedded itself in House-Watcher's chest.

Ribs broken, robes stained with blood, House-Watcher crumpled to his knees. The flames coating his hands sputtered and died out. Alwyn took a step forward, savouring his victory. The whole fight had lasted less than five minutes. As he drew closer, Alwyn could see the hatred in the man's eyes. Icy-blue, shining with a fire as hot as that which he had wielded scant moments before. There was no fear, only a righteous defiance. Alwyn now stood mere inches before him. House-Watcher's wintry eyes glared at him. Yet now, at this close a distance, Alwyn could see what he had missed before. The first; around House-Watcher's neck, visible through the tattered collar of his robes, was a bronze amulet in the shape of an ornate drinking horn. House-Watcher was a Vigilant of Stendarr. Alwyn had heard of such people, warrior-priests dedicated to the hunting of daedra, vampires, witches and werewolves. He had never encountered any, until now. The second, more disturbing realization; House-Watcher's fury was not directed at Alwyn, as before, but himself. He had failed in his mission. He had failed his God.

Not for the first time, Alwyn was glad he was not religious. While he could not deny the existence of the aedra and daedra, he made a point not to offer anything to any one of them. This left him free to make his own decisions, not bound to the laws of a deity like House-Watcher and the Vigilants. Alwyn crouched down low, propping House-Watcher up on his arm. The Vigilant flinched in disgust, but Alwyn didn't care.

'Who are you?'

'A dead man…' wheezed House-Watcher, the effort of speaking straining him. 'Kill me, nightstalker…'

'No. Not yet. What is your name?'

'You will learn nothing from me…I would rather die than besmirch the honour of my lord any more than I have done thus far…' Even when dying, House-Watcher maintained a sense of pride in his duty. Once again, Alwyn felt a twinge of respect for the man. Nevertheless, he knew what he had to do.

'Listen, Vigilant! Just tell me who you are, and why you are here.'

House-Watcher smiled, knowing he had been given some form of redemption. 'I am but a damned soul, and I serve the Lord of Justice. If it is his will to pass from this life, then unto death I go. It has been an honour, _vampiris_…' With a final burst of strength, House-Watcher wrenched the sword upwards, and the light of life faded from his eyes.

Alwyn tugged the bloodied blade from House-Watcher's chest. The Vigilant's final moments disturbed him. House-Watcher was right; a creature like Alwyn should be incapable of showing considerate emotion, especially to a man who had just tried to kill him.

He was confused. He needed somewhere safe, and a lot of time to think. For a few precious moments, all was still. Then there was a pounding of armoured boots, a flurry of shouts, and Alwyn felt the air vanish from his lungs, as if sucked away by an ethereal vortex. Alwyn had took barely a single step before the dingy backstreet was torn apart in a titanic firestorm, and the sky was rent with blazing trails of destruction.

A/N: Hi guys! This is my first upload to the site, and my first actual fanfic. Have a read through, and any feedback ( even criticism!) would be much appreciated. I have a couple more chapters written up, but I'd like to see people's reaction to this piece before I post anything else. As the full story is not completed yet, any suggestions people have as to extra characters/plot twists/etc. would be great, and can be put in a review or PM. Cheers! 3agle :P


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